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briebysabs · 8 months

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Since I am such a normal individual I’ve decided to attempt breaking down vanoé’s character song “Le Formidable”. I don’t hear much talk about it but the lyrics are just as cryptic and wild as the OP/ED.

Before we get into it, in terms of translation, I could only find one on YouTube that thankfully color-coded the lyrics so I could decipher who sings what. If anyone has any other translations, I’d love to know please. So a bunch of the lines you can kinda figure out who’s singing but here’s how it’s gonna be:

Vanitas =💙

Noé =💜

Vanoe= 💙💜

Simple enough let’s get into it :)

💜: /I want to stay in bed feeling the warmth of the sun and drift in and out of this sweet dream/

Already we’ve mentioned dreaming, a running theme in this song. There is the well-known line Teacher says in chapter 55...

Sleeping, specifically in regards to Noé, is something mochijun makes the audience take note. He can’t sleep without holding something. When he can’t fall asleep, it is highlighted like the night Vanitas rejected Noé drinking his blood. He doesn’t want Vanitas to disappear and I personally like how in the recent chapter, Vanitas stays by his side for a while. Almost like callback to that moment on the train but I’m getting carried away. You get the correlation I’m making, it’ll get very important later on.

We also have those warmth and sun connections to Noé, a large part of his character and Vanitas’ gravitation towards him.

💙: /With this grey weather today, this day will go by without any harmony/

We see Vanitas’ pessimistic outlook on life; grey, cloudy, devoid of color. Devoid of comfort and obviously these two contrasting people will clash but mix together throughout the song.

💜: /Tarte Tatin, Altus Paris! Endless interesting things!/

💙: /It’s always like this! Here and there, endlessly losing sight./

This seems pretty straightforward, Noé is getting distracted by all the wonderful things as usual and Vanitas chastises him. But let’s frame this another way, Noé is choosing to not focus. It’s simpler that way. He’s turning his focus elsewhere to better things, more pleasant things. And Vanitas is trying to wake him up. I’ll explain more in my theory soon.

💜: /What to look for today from this city/

💙: /Ah with all these things/

💙💜: /There is no time to rest/

Simple lyrics here. No comment.

💙💜: /Le formidable! Le formidable! It’s really easy. Just colliding, rolling down, and repeating again/

Here we are entering the chorus. There’s a common thread of repetition in every OP and ED in VnC. Like clockwork, these two have fallen into this pattern.

Colliding- Vanoé meeting, two worlds learning how to come together, joining as one

Rolling down- their downfall, incoming despair and tragedy

Repeating again- they find themselves back where they started, fated to be born and to die

Let me say the first part of my theory and keep this in the back of your head while remembering the lyrics: VnC is not a time loop in the traditional sense but rather a loop of memories. Also keep in mind the first ED Zero: “Now I remember, oh I have never lived a day without you. Untie the layer of memories...”

💙: /This worthless-/

💜: /wonderful-/

💙💜: /world we are walking on. Even not knowing is sometimes nice, right?/

Again, vanoé with different outlooks on life meet each other. But more importantly, we see the display of ignorance or blissful unawareness. We the audience have a vague idea on how this story ends and in a way, so do they. Vanitas knows very well he is doomed and has already entrusted Noé to end his life if it comes to it. But we also don’t know the specifics of their downfall and neither do they.

So this line has a double meaning that refers to the characters and the reader. As yeah it is nice to read vnc and enjoy the happy moments without knowing the painful details of what’s to come.

💜: /Over there something is flapping their wings/

💙: /And these uncountable days pass by. It’s not worth worrying about. So many unknown things, without meaning/

💜: /Escalier! I want to see the bright colors beyond!/

Noé, again giving his attention to supposedly insignificant things as Vanitas tends to see the larger picture, not caring for the mundane. Uncountable days can be matched with the grey weather mentioned earlier. But that also means things are murky, blur together, cloudy. They don’t make sense to Vanitas (such as love, his self-worth, the nature within people) while Noé wants to experience all the brightness of the world.

💙: /I told you to be quiet today, yet here we are!/

💜: /Now you loud person!/

💙💜: /I told you I hardly have time to breathe/

So, hypothetical scenario if we take this song literal: Vanoé is exploring the city because Noe wanted to Vanitas couldn’t say no. Vanitas is fed up and Noé thinks his complaints are aggravating. But this part shows a lack of understanding. They’re yelling about their own hardships but don’t see the other’s perspective.

💙💜: /Le formidable! Le formidable! It’s a simple thing. It’s just finding, losing sight and repeating again/

💜: /I want to dream/

💙: /It’s just a dream/

💙💜: /The world keep walking while not knowing the truth at this point/

Ok there’s a lot to dig our teeth in here. First of all, the finding, losing sight, repeating is another way of describing the colliding and rolling down said prior. Vanoe find each other, they lose each other, it’s fated to happen all over again. Now the big piece here, I want to dream/It’s just a dream. Surface-level interpretation > another instance of their differences. Noé wants be surrounded by dreams and wonder. While Vanitas looks at that beauty and scoff at it, since it isn’t real therefore not worth caring for. But if we read into this carefully, Noé wants to dream. He wants to stay in these memories, he doesn’t want to live in a world without Vanitas.

Let’s go back to OP 1: “I love this world and the light only you give me.”

We know OP 1 is Noe’s POV so let’s ask ourselves why would the Noé we are seeing, the one smiling at all the colors of the world say Vanitas is the only light he has (emphasis on “only”). Because the Noé singing the first OP is operating with far more knowledge and despair. We don’t know the truth at this point. “This world” is not real.

Allow me to offer what I think is happening. Noé and Vanitas meet, they go on this journey of understanding, trust, and love, Vanitas reaches his end and is killed by Noé. Noé lives on. We can tell the Noé writing this story is full of regret and sadness. But why is he writing this all down? He’s retelling the memories, putting them down physically on paper. Two things happened:

a) He exchanged his name with Naenia, wishing to remain in a world with Vanitas in it. Because that wish is still very present, Naenia has great interest in Noé. She mentions seeing him before in Louis but it could be a classic mochijun misdirect and it’s actually from receiving his name in a different iteration. There is that official art with Noé wearing Vanitas’ coat with that goat entity he saw in Gevaudan, pinned to his vest.

However this can only work if Naenia is still around and isn’t resolved/defeated in the memoirs.

b) This is more likely in my opinion. Noé uses the Books and the memoirs act as a catalyst for him to have the world become his memories or for him to live in them. I know only those with blue blood or something can use the books.

Which is why Dr. Moreau had those experiments with Vanitas and Misha. Don’t worry, I already have a theory that Archivistes are some form of blue moon vampires but that is a whole other discussion. Point is, I think the Books of Vanitas are like an Elliot sword situation. Yes, Elliot owns the Nightray sword and carries it around but you don’t know its true purpose in the story until Leo wields it.

Noé causes these memories to replay, perhaps to save Vanitas or simply to dream again. Go back to when he was last happy. But here’s the thing, the Noé in this memory is unaware or ignorant of this, sees his present world as the real one and undergoes the events of the series. Vanitas dies, he lives on, and creates a memory world for himself. Rinse, recycle, repeat. Essentially, the first ED gave it away. The entirety of VnC is a layer of memories. Even the narrator Noé we are hearing is a memory that is trying to manifest a world of his own.

Reality and dreams are all intertwined now and Noé got lost in it. There are leaks in the cracks, for example when Vanitas cries and tells Luna his mother died at childbirth why would he call to her. Initially, you can read this as he’s just missing what he never had. But what if Vanitas’ mother was present in his life 9 memory loops ago but because these memories get further from the truth the more it happens, Noé simply forgot that detail when making the memoirs at some point in time. So now, in the memory layer #52 Vanitas has no mother.

💜: /We will see what we “cannot see”/

💙: /We will know what we “don’t know”/

💙💜: /The final stop of this world that seems to be changing, seems only further ahead/

Noe’s line possibly goes into his Archiviste nature and how he experiences reading memories. It can as well build back into the dream/memory loop thing, he’s seeing things he can no longer “see.”

Vanitas’ line can be drawn to what Noé said during their fight.

Vanitas acts like he has the final word and has a full grasp of how this world/himself works. But he really doesn’t and Noé is living proof of that, proving him wrong on several occasions that there’s still hope, they can’t give up yet, he won’t leave him etc. The final stop of this world is changing, but it’s further ahead. This is a story, a preserved section of time from the past. We gotta ask ourselves... why would the last stop be changing? Again, Vanitas’ death is the final stop but it’s changing, perhaps from the countless iterations we’ve gone through Noé writes the memoirs in a way that delays the ending. So he could remain just a little longer…

💙💜: /Le formidable! Le formidable! Everything is fine. While forgetting, hiding, and repeating it/

💙: /This worthless/

💜: /wonderful/

💙💜: /world we are walking on/

💙: /I don’t know but even so/

💜: /If it can make you smile.../

After this, it ends the song by repeating the first chorus with the colliding-rolling down part so I’ll make this the cutting point. The “everything is fine” totally doesn’t stick out in a story where we know everything will not be fine. The forgetting and hiding goes back to my dream-memory theory, Noé is hiding from the truth in these stacks upon stacks of memories and is possibly forgetting things as they really happened as a result. We already know he isn’t the most reliable narrator. But Noé wants to see Vanitas’ smile.

If it can make you smile again, if it can replay your laughter, why would I ever leave this wonderful lie? In OP 1: “Your laughing was reflected by a daydream”.

I’ll conclude this by saying two things. If you want to get even deeper, you can interpret Vanitas in this song as the voice in the back of Noé’s head. Its just a dream, this world is actually worthless, and Noé is trying to drown out those thoughts. Because yeah they sing lines together but the only time they’re directly speaking to each other is when Vanitas scolds Noé and Noé shouts back, calling him loud. Finally, I could be wrong in all this. I am aware how crazy I may look and I'm so thankful if you read this far.

But yeah if this is anywhere near canon, mochijun must be the most unhinged, absolutely cracked author I’ve ever seen. We’re going into Pandora Hearts levels of intricacy here. I hope you enjoyed my insanity 👍🏼

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billfarrah · 1 year

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Lot's of possibilities but want to talk about e1 party scene when they see each other for the first time after "Have a nice christmas" 🥺 the way they gravitate towards each other and then their stares at the other, the acting so amazing (with just looks!!) as we see how much they've missed each other. Simon looking at his hair and of course the - I got a haircut. Love this scene! 💜😭🥰

Them at parties always makes for beautiful moments.. okay now you. 😊💜

I loooooooooooove this scene. The beginning of Simon's Bambi era. My favourite thing about this scene is the contrast between the way they watch each other as each of them individually talk on the phone. I love how Simon can't help but stare but stops himself by looking away, while Wille unabashedly explores every inch of him with his eyes. It's great visual storytelling - we see Simon's feelings are still very much there but he's trying to push them down, meanwhile Wille is desperate to be around Simon. Visual storytelling is something YR is really good at - the characters aren't particularly verbose about their emotions so body language and looks become incredibly important to understanding how they feel, and thankfully Edvin and Omar could write sonnets with their eyes.

#young royals #wilmon

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honestlydarkprincess · 2 months

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Any info or snippets from your wip touches?

💜

hi love! i shared a snippie here and here's another one<3

And if sometimes he let himself think of what it would be like to have Eddie the way he really wanted him, well that was no one’s business but his own. It’s just…they fit together so well. They were almost always in sync, they’d only ever fought a handful of times, and Buck truly believed that Eddie was his person. Even if they never got together, no one would fill that spot in his life because it was shaped like Eddie.

Despite knowing all that, Buck sometimes struggled with his crush. Having Eddie so close and not being able to act the way he wanted to act was hard. Their shoulders were always touching, knocking as they walked side by side. They gravitated towards each other and personal space was almost non-existent between them. It fucking killed Buck. Eddie was so close and yet so far.

ask me about my wips

#touches fic #jess.writes #my writing #my wips #buddie #buddie wip #eddie diaz #evan buckley #911 #911 abc #socks tag #spotsandsocks #jess gets mail! 💌

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female-fogbank · 1 year

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Made for @spirkme915 who asked for Spirk, I chose SNW hurt/comfort, I hope you like it 🙌

Thank you @startrekwintergiftexchange for organising this event💜

~ Secret Beginnings ~

The first time they met was years before they met on the Enterprise. It was a meeting neither would forget nor even in their weakest moments mention to another soul. It was the first of many secrets they would bond on and share to their graves. Underground fights were in the Federation’s top 5 of unapproved pass times.

Starfleet officers were supposed to behave accordingly and maintain the image of civility. The fights that occurred deep in the belly of certain starbases did not allow for any of that. It was dirty, brutal, bloody, almost animalistic, no bars fighting. If anyone knew Spock or Kirk had met in the ring, or that they had been engaging in said activities, their careers would go up in flames.

Maybe that was part of the appeal. For Spock, it had been an outlet for the deep seated rage inside that threatened to consume. He knew engaging in underground fighting was illegal and could lead to his expulsion from Starfleet but he couldn’t stop.

It was cathartic, he spent most of his youth and adolescence suppressing his emotions, pushing all the pain, frustration, anger and anguish of being a hybrid in a society that idolized emotional disassociation and stoicism. The expectations placed on him by his father, to act and be a certain way. He couldn’t be like the other Vulcan children, he always had to be better. The bar to achieving excellence was forever moving and always out of his grasp.

So, when he stepped into that ring, he could pour all those emotions out. No one judged him for it, no one thought less of him. They were all there for similar reasons.

Kirk fought because he was numb, no one would know it looking at him. No, he was the poster boy for the man with the perfect life. All the emotions he should be capable of feeling felt out of reach. It was almost like he existed inside his own shield. But when he stepped into that cage to fight, he could feel. He felt pain, with pain came adrenaline and euphoria. He felt the satisfaction of winning, the enjoyment in the camaraderie shared with the other fighters as they gave and took. Maybe their reasons were different but they came for the same reason, catharsis.

It was their dirty little secret, their form of therapy and it worked. Spock felt the rage in him become easier to control. He found he could reconcile the past as he was no longer trapped in emotions that held him trapped in those moments. There was a clarity after one was temporarily purged of their inner demons.

The people he fought with all taught him something about himself. Whether it was in the ring, or after the fight when they patched up their wounds and cleaned up the blood. Spock felt himself gravitate towards Kirk most out of all the fighters. Unlike the other humans who fought, he wasn’t fighting to pay off some debt or a sadist. There was something different about him, when one is stripped down, bloodied and bruised, in the quiet moments of being healed, people talked. They let their guard down and shared their pain and in Kirk’s case lack thereof.

Spock didn’t miss the irony of their odd friendship borne in the bowels of that starbase. The Vulcan who felt too much and the human who struggled to feel. But there they were, learning from one another. Leaning on each other at times, baring their souls of their darkest secrets with full knowledge they were safe. That no judgement would be passed, no pity nor advice on how ‘fix’ themselves. They accepted each other for their flaws which was something very rare to find in their normal lives.

The only sad fact of it all was when they got cleaned up, donned their Starfleet uniforms and returned to their ships, they had to pretend none of it existed. That no history had passed between them. To acknowledge it, would bring them under the scrutiny of their leaders. Questions they didn’t want would be asked, neither wanted that to happen. Neither wanted to explain themselves or justify their actions in this regard.

So, when Spock ‘officially’ met James T. Kirk for the first time. Their eyes locked, a moment of recognition passed between them. No one would ever know by looking at them that they already had a long history. But after the moment they exchanged pleasantries, their relationship could finally see the light of day.

#star trek snw #star trek: strange new worlds #star trek: snw #star trek strange new worlds #spock #james kirk #james t kirk #paul wesley #ethan peck #spirk au #spirk #spirk edit #star trek #star trek winter gift exchange

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consistentlyamess · 6 months

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We'll see about that - Chapter 2⎮‘Cause you’ve got too many scars to hide

[4.8K] who?me?getting carried away? never!

pairing(s): steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: You just wanted a fresh start but you might get more than you bargained for when the sleepy town of Hawkins lives up to its reputation.

warnings: takes place after season 4, 18+ , MDNI, slight age gap (reader is like 2 yrs older than Steve), canon typical violence, mentions of a lonely childhood, mentions of difficult relationship with parents, swearing, eventual smut, abusive relationship, brief stancy storyline, strangers to friend to lovers, pining, storm, pnaic attackish happening, mentions of blood and injuries, slowburn, flashbacks in italics, i changed a tiny thing compared to the sneak peek but i think it's better this way, sorry and lmk if i missed anything!!

A/N: HI HELLO!! thank you for your patience and all, it did take a lot longer to churn this chapter out that I expected but here we are!! comments, like reblogs are apprciated as always or just come chat at me! And as always 💜💜💜 TY for reading!!!!💜💜💜 Fic Masterlist Previous Chapter I Next Chapter Coming Soon

‘You sure you have everything?’ Laura asked with a worried look in her eyes.

‘Yeah, I think so. Wasn’t much to begin with really.’ You tried to laugh it off but it came a little broken. A little less careless than you would’ve liked.

‘I’m so sorry I couldn’t do more.’ Laura almost whispered and gave your upper arm a light squeeze. She tried to be encouraging but it was more along the lines of ‘I’m sorry’.

‘You did way more than you ever signed up for Lore. If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t even be here right now.’

‘I just-‘ She tried to finish but couldn’t. She just shook her head instead and searched your face a little.

‘How’s your nose?’ She touched the gauze for a second.

‘I’ll be fine Lore. It doesn’t even hurt that much anymore. The doctor said I won’t even be able to see it in a couple of months. The stitches in my eyebrows might show a little. But you’ll have to be really closely. It’s all gonna be fine. I promise.’

She nodded hurriedly, fervently. Willing your words to be true.

‘You’ll call me when you get there?’

‘Of course! And I’ll write and maybe you can come to Hawkins sometime.’ You smiled whistfully. Maybe someday.

‘Okay. Are we completely sure that the old car is taken care of?’

‘Hundred percent, yes. The plate is gone and it was sold like two states away.’ She said a lot more confidently. That they could take care of. The least they could do, she felt like

You took a deep breath.

‘Okay.’

You hugged each other and suddenly it did feel a lot more like saying goodbye. You cried in the past few weeks. A lot. But it was mostly out of frustration. Maybe anger. The sadness of it all you tried to keep hidden, even from yourself. It was too much to bear all at once. You had to keep going and if you let yourself consider the full weight of it all, it might crush you and the hole thing would fall apart. You couldn’t let that happen. For Laura. For your mom. For yourself. You kept it together though, the roared up, you watched Laura disappear in the rearview mirror and your were off. You drove about ten minutes before you had to pull over and cry for a good five minutes, uninterrupted because the tears just kept blurring your vision. This was it. You did it. You got out.

——

Fall arrived with full force in Hawkins in the middle of September. Leaves started ruffling slightly more dryly in the trees, the sun became less punishing, nights started to feel a lot more cozy with a cup of tea in your hand.

You did meet Miss Kelly in the end. As well as the other teachers. Well, the remaining ones. You never really had difficulty with creating connections. You were nice and open to people. You had a good sense of humor and way of putting people at ease fairly quickly. One of the reasons you thought Robin gravitated towards you. The teachers of Hawkins Elementary? Not so much. You, yourself were a little bit rusty. You became a tad more guarded and careful but that was nothing compared to them. They avoided eye contact, dodged every invitation and initiation of conversation. The children were a lot similar. The reward stickers didn’t work, you scaresly got a chuckle or a smile when you made jokes or tried to ease conversation. They came in, they did the work and that was it.

In this environment it didn’t take long for an uneasy feeling of impending doom to set in the pit of your stomach. It was unsettling to say the least. With work kicking in and trying to crack the code to the good graces of your students or at least easing their worries a little you didn’t really have time to hangout with the crew. You shared a coffee with Nancy here and there and you really cherished those mornings. You totally got what Steve saw in her. She was smart and kind and made you feel welcome. But under the demiour exterior she still had a kick to her. Some fire and fierceness that made you quite sure that she could kick anybody’s ass if she wanted to. Will slowly became a regular after classes to hangout, talk about art and get some tips as well. You felt a lingering sadness in him that you were all too familiar with. But you could also feel how he softened up after being shown kindness. It broke your heart a little bit but you were happy to provide those moments of serenity. A little relief feels like a lot at certain times. Jonathan usually picked him up and you chatted sometimes. You felt a kinship with that you couldn’t really place, until it was made clear that their father was also an asshole and he, just like you, was somewhat of a weird kid in high school. Everytime the topic of Nancy came up however, he immediately became more guarded and tried to avoid the subject as much as possible. You were extremely curious but didn’t want to push him.

—-

The third hiccup happens when you and Robin are arguing about a movie at Family video.

‘What? No fucking way, there’s nobody who’s hotter that Pheobe Cates!’

‘Thank you!’ You hear Steve shouting out from in between the rows. Robin gives you a ‘see?’ look.

‘Okay, not the best company, but I do stand by it. Phoebe Cates and maybe Molly Ringwald.’

‘Are you sure you’re straight?’ Robin asks you with a playful tilt in her head. You don’t have a chance to answer because the whole store shakes. It’s an earthquake. You heard about them but never experienced one. Your balance is thrown off, some tapes hit the ground but the shelves stay and for a second you’re not sure if it’s really happening. Robin then disappears behind the counter, Steve calls out and from 83 you to 92 percent certainty that it’s real. Robin emerges, Steve gets back and a blind man wouldn’t miss the look they share.

‘Peach’ Steve comes up behind you. ‘ You okay?’ He asks. He’s holding your elbow and at this point you’re not entirely sure where the disorientation is coming from. He squeezes a little harder. ‘Hey, everything’s alright, we’re all good.’

‘What was that?’ You ask in a voice that’s a little weaker that you’d like it to be.

‘It was an earthquake, they happen here sometimes, we’re all good, but I’m gonna need you to go home now, okay?’

‘But-’

‘No! Sorry, but no.’ you can feel the way he softens from one second to the other. ‘No, I need you to go home. We know how to handle this, we’ll check in tomorrow and everything will be fine, but you have to go home. Please.’ He’s pleading and the honey brown eyes have their charm whether you’re willing to admit or not. You tell yourself that he’s right. That you’re gonna be safer at home.

So you go. While you’re driving home a storm breaks out. And not just any storm. It was properly raging. Lighting after lightning came down from the sky and the thunders were just sort of blending into each other. You fucking hated storms. The wind was howling and the second you got into the apartment, you cowered away into the corner of your living room. How did it get so bad, so quickly? How was this even possible? Was this the curse everybody was talking about? Catching yourself in the whirlpool of your thoughts, you gripped your knees tighter to your chest. What a fucking pathetic sight, you thought to yourself. It’s just a fucking storm and you’re crouching in the corner like a frightened puppy. Look at yourself, and you think, you can take care of yourself. Adorable. It made your skin crawl because it was him talking. It was his words, his voice, even without him you had him in your head. Grabbing at the sides of your head you tried to stop it. Tried to physically squeeze the thoughts out. But it didn’t work. Turning the TV on also didn’t help much. Your breath quickened, you could feel your heartbeat in your ears and the tears started flowing down your face. You don’t have a sense of time anymore. It might have been a few minutes, it might have been hours. You don’t even have it in you to glance at your watch.

‘Nonononono’ you practically whined. ‘No, please, stop it. Just stop it please.’ The storm, this feeling, the fear, all of it. You couldn’t drown it out and it made you feel paralyzed but also clenching all your muscles at the same time. Laura told you that her therapist suggested a check-in with herself about every 30 minutes to unclench her jaw. She told you it really helped her. You tried. You really did. But you couldn’t tell your jaw from your shoulders anymore and nothing worked.

Another shock came to your system when there was a knock at the door. Everything became even more blurred around you and you thought you might throw up. You wanted to go get the gun but you couldn’t move.

‘Go away!’ It was a guttural scream. It came from somewhere deep and instinctual that has been secluded for so long. You were sobbing at this point and then you heard it. Through everything, you still heard it.

‘Peach?! Is that you? It’s Steve. Are you hurt? Can you open the door?’

Steve. It clicks in your brain and you could swear your heart stopped the same second the thunder and lightning miss a beat. Everything is quiet just in that second and you feel like the world changes settings just for you. Like a personal little raining cloud fizzles, disappears and a warm light appears above your head that starts to melt your frozen limbs and fried out nerve endings. Your movements are still rigid but you feel your fingers twitch.

‘Steve-‘ You whisper in front of yourself and lean forward. He knocks again and you call out a little louder this time. Shedding your blanket, your body starts cooperating. Just keep crawling toward the warm voice. Still, by the time you make it to the door, he’s saying he will break it down if he has to and is not leaving until he sees you.

The door opens up and he’s standing there, relief washing over him when he lays eyes on you, just to quickly be replaced by concern again.

‘Hey, what happened, ‘re you okay?’ He wants to hold you so bad but for now is satisfied with finding your fingers in the dark and touching them. You nod, as best as you can, which admittedly is not very good.

‘W-why didn’t you ca-call?’ You ask just to regret it with the next breath because your throat and voice are wrecked from the sobbing.

‘Phone lines are out. I also didn’t want to spook you. The last time you got a phone call, you acted a little funny...’ He gets it out in one breath, rushing through the sentence. ‘What happened, did you get hurt?’ He looked you over, searching for something. Teared fabric, blood, something. You put your hands on his shoulder in an attempt to calm or at least slow him down and it only registers properly then that he’s fully drenched.

‘Shit, you’re completely soaked through! Come in, let’s get you dry.’ You’re still unsure of your movements but you usher him in, despite his muffled and somewhat weak protests. He wanted to stay but unlike you he did have some teared fabric and blood on him that you were yet to notice. He didn’t want you to see that but he did crave some comfort after watching Nancy holding Jonathan’s hand while Robin patched him up. He was selfish, he knew that. He tried to tell himself that it has to mean something that after his arm was bitten by a demobat his first thought was to check on you on his way home. He just wanted to see your house, maybe some lights, possibly you moving in front of a window. But he couldn’t see anything other than the flickering of the TV and after the night he didn’t take it as a good sign. Or just really wanted to see you. He thinks both might be possible, even if the letter might make him a little creepy.

You lead him to the bathroom, the new purpose giving a little stillness to your limbs and voice.

‘I can put your clothes in the drier for a quick round and get you something to change into. The guy who lived here left some st- Jesus fucking Christ what the hell happened to you?’ the moment you turned on the light you saw it. The cuts, the bruises, the blood, some dried, some fresh.

‘You should see the other guy’ he tried to give you a cheeky smile but you could tell he was hurting.

‘Did you get into a fight? Who did this?’

‘Yeah, something like that. But I’m gonna be fine, I promise, I’ve had much worse. Ask anyone, Dustin we’ll gladly tell you about every single time I got my ass handed to me.’ His face is hurting, he’s cold but all he can think about at this moment is that he hates you’re worrying about him. He hates the way your eyebrows crease together as you try to assess the damage he’s taken. He hates the way your hands hesitate to reach out. You clearly had a rough night yourself and he hates he’s making it worse. You open your mouth like you’re gonna say something but it closes again.

‘Okay’ you say finally. ‘Sit down, I’ll get the first aid kit.’

He’s dumbfounded for a moment but ultimately glad you’re not asking questions. He’s agitated, he’s scared, he’s alone and he doesn’t trust himself with keeping a secret now. If you start asking it might all just spill out from him which he desperately wants to avoid. You can’t get anywhere near this. Well, not any nearer.

You come back with hands full of stuff - dry clothes hanging off of your arm, a glass of water in your hand, the first aid kit in the other.

‘Here’ you start by handing him the water. After laying the clothes on the side of the tub, you hand him an aspirin. ‘This’ll take care of the pain for now. You can take a shower if you want to, then I’ll disinfect your wounds, get some bandages and if you get a good night’s sleep, you’ll be better by tomorrow.’ You spoke so softly, he immediately calmed down and for a moment even forgot that he just barged in on you, on your weekend no less. He forgot to look away for a second though and his eyes started searching yours. Your face was puffy, your eyes were red and there were some sniffles here and there.

‘Were you crying before I got here?’

‘Thank you usually works in this situation.’

‘Shit, I’m sorry, I am very thankful but I came here in the first place to make sure you were okay and as far as I can tell, you’re not.’

‘I- It’s just… I fucking hate storms.’ Your arms come up, wrapping around yourself. Not being able to hold his gaze you glance down to the tiles and take a deep breath. ‘I’ll be fine, I just want it to be over.’ You start moving for the first aid kit. ‘But you’re a pretty good distraction, so let’s get you cleaned up, shell we?’ You leave him to change and when you go back he’s sitting on the top of the closed toilet waiting for you. You’re meticulous but soft, determined but attentive and the way you balance the disinfectant, the cotton pads is almost hypnotic to him. In return the sense of purpose anchors you and you’re able to tune out almost everything that’s not connected to helping Steve. When you get to a particularly nasty cut above his eyebrow, he hisses.

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m almost done.’

‘No, you’re okay, this is what you’re supposed to do, right?’ He quotes you back to you and even as his eyes are shut tight you can tell that his face is about an inch away from slipping into a smug grin. He makes you chuckle and he swears it’s a better painkiller than the actual pill you gave him.

‘Okay, there are a couple of pretty deep cuts here. I’m gonna need you to hold still. Hold onto something and tell me about a good memory.’

‘A good memory?’

‘Yeah. I learned it with kids. When I have to tend to them, making them talk keeps their mind occupied and lets me apply the disinfectant or put a bandaid on.’

‘Huh, that’s smart’ he looks up at you with a goofy grin and sparkling eyes and you have to clear your throat to remind yourself what you were doing.

‘So, good memory. You have anything?’

‘Yeah, sorry, yeah, I got it. Do your worst.’

‘Alright, start talking, pretty boy.’ The nickname slips out so effortlessly, you almost don’t notice it. The way his lips part a little and the tip of his ears run pink clues you in that you did indeed say it out loud and he did hear you.

‘Uhm, yeah, I, uh, the first thing that came to mind was the day I got my car. And before you roll your eyes, I know how it sounds and for a long time it was like that. Being the only 17 year old who was driving around in a brand new BMW instead of a banged up used car my parents passed down was pretty sweet. It was a guilt present from my dad because he forgot my birthday that year.’ A peng of pain hits your heart. He doesn’t sound very hurt now but you can imagine it wasn’t always like this. ‘I could drive my friends and girls around and it did feel like a sanctuary sometimes. Then those friends turned out to be not very good people, the girls turned out to be more interested in the car and pool in the backyard than me and shit happened and I got my heart broken and then I started driving this little shithead around and the car didn’t change and I basically still just drive people around but those people happen to really like me, for god knows why, and it got us out of some deep shit and I’m actually afraid of the day when it breaks down finally or I have to sell it or anything because half of my goddamn life is in that car.’ You pull away as he finishes his story and let his hair fall back to his forehead. You move back for a second to wipe a stray lock away from his eyes and then lean back to the sink. Your voice is barely above whisper as you speak again.

‘You’re all done.’ He touches his face carefully and you watch him with soft eyes. ‘Thank you for telling me that. Technically it wasn’t one memory but I’ll let it slide for now.’

His smiles.

‘What about you?’

‘What about me?’ You ask, tilting your head, crossing your arms.

‘A good memory. I just laid my heart out for you, it would make me feel better if I wasn’t the only one.’

‘Okay, first of all, you told a semi-moving story about how much you love your car, ‘laying your heart out’ is a tad dramatic.’ You start packing the stuff you spread around the bathroom. ‘Second of all, I don’t need to be cleaned up or distracted, so maybe next time.’

‘Well, that’s not fair! C’mon, just one, just a tiny little story.’

‘God, you’re unbearable!’ You roll your eyes playfully. ‘This wasn’t part of the agreement and-’ You don’t get to finish the sentence because there’s a particularly loud crash, thunder and lightning coming down with a real fury. You jump with a gasp bumping your knee on the side of the tub.

‘Fuck’

‘Hey, hey, hey,’ Steve calls, coming up behind you. ‘You’re okay, it’s okay, it’s just a storm.’ He turns you to face him so he can find your eyes. He’s lying through his teeth but he needs you to believe that it’s just a storm. You’re too smart and stubborn for your own good. He can’t slip.

‘I just really fucking hate storms.’ You say as you lay your forehead on his shoulder.

‘Yeah, I got that.’ He’s careful, he holds you so lightly because he’s scared you’re gonna come to your senses and pull away before he can properly figure out which floral scent is coming from your hair and which one is your perfume and can properly memorize the little baby hair on the nape of your neck or imagine how it would feel to be tickled by them in the morning.

‘Just breath, I’m here. And maybe if you need some distraction, you could tell me about that good memory, now?’

You don’t look up, but you chuckle a little.

‘Well, when I was a little girl there was this treehouse in the neighbor's yard. I was so jealous of it, I wanted it to have one so badly, or just go up in it, just once. But the house was mostly vacant and I got caught by my mom one time when I was trying to climb the fence, so I just stared at it and wished that someday, maybe I could play in it.’

Your voice was a little muffled because you were talking at the bathroom tiles but Steve was listening intently. He pictured you with a petulant little pout, sitting in a garden, burning holes in the treehouse with your eyes. It made him smile.

‘And then one day, out of nowhere, a family moved in. They had a daughter, Lilly, and she just invited me over one day when she saw me in the garden. We played and talked and given it’s not that hard to make friends when you’re eight, we did become inseparable almost instantly. I had such a good time, I almost forgot about the treehouse. I would’ve been happy to just spend the whole afternoon curled up in the grass, talking but then she said she wanted to show me her treehouse and I nearly started crying, I was so excited. We went up and it was everything I wanted and more. I think that was the highest I’ve ever been at that point, I could see the whole neighborhood and it felt like nothing could touch me there.’

‘We spent so much time there. It became like a sanctuary too. We went there when we got our first crushes, when she got yelled at, when we wanted to feel safe. On some summer nights we even slept out there and I think those were the best nights of my life.’

During your story Steve was stroking your arm up and down, soothing you, saying with every touch ‘I’m here, I’m not going anywhere, I’ll be your new treehouse, all you have to do is ask me’.

‘Technically that wasn’t one memory either but I liked it, so I’m gonna let you get away with it.’ He squeezes your arm one last time and lets go slowly, trying to get you to look up at him.

‘The storm passed I think. It’s just the rain now.’

‘Is it gonna come back?’

‘I’m not sure. Maybe. Hawkins has some weird weather sometimes.’

‘Hawkins seems to have weird everything sometimes.’

‘Yeah, that’s fair.’

With the weather getting back to something you can handle and the house quiet with the dim lights of the bathroom it starts hitting you how close the two of you are standing and how this whole thing has been very, well, for lack of a better word, cozy. Even if it was only the instinct to help someone, he quite literally saved your night. Maybe even you. You’re wondering why exactly he came here in the first place and you find some kind of answer in the way he's looking at you, the way he stayed with you in the storm. It’s the same need to take care of people. It’s the driving the little shitheads around even though they really are shitheads, it’s the trying to distract someone from pain and hurt by making them think about something nice, something happy, it’s the holding a burned hand under cold water and it’s the swiping a lock of hair away so it doesn’t land in their eyes. It’s not something that just leaves you. Heartbreaks and grief can suppress it for a while but the world has a funny way of bringing it out again in the most unexpected moments. Like in a tiny, poorly lit bathroom during a storm from hell, trying to wipe the blood from the cheekbones of the prettiest boy. You inhale sharply because your insistence to keep your distance might be wavering and you know it’s a bad idea. Steve’s still into Nancy, Nancy’s with Jonathan, Jonathan is acting weird, well, everyone’s acting weird. But you keep looking at each other and you’re almost a hundred percent sure, he has similar thoughts running through his mind.

‘I uh, I should go, I think, I don’t want to bother you anymore.’ He starts talking finally, running a hand down the back of his neck.

‘You weren’t bothering me. If it wasn’t for you I would still be curled up in the corner of my living room.’

‘I can, you know, I can stay too. In a completely non-creepy way. I just wanna make sure you’re okay. I’ll gladly keep on distracting all night if needed.’

You don’t miss the slight double-entendre painting the words and you raise an eyebrow.

‘In a non-creepy way, huh?’ He gets flustered when he fully understands what you mean and what he just said. He’s about to start protesting but his nerves prevent him from being quick on his feet. You save him, mercifully.

‘I know what you mean, relax. And thank you, it’s very knight in shining armor of you but I’ll be okay now. You should go home, take a hot shower, drink some tea and get into bed. I’ll throw your clothes in the drier and get them back to you.’

‘Alright, yeah, you’re right. Thank you for taking care of me, Peach. You’re a lot better at this than I am or god forbid Robin.’

‘It’s alright. Thank you for distracting me, Harrington!’

‘Back to second names? Really? After all we’ve been through in the last like two hours?’

‘I mean, I gotta be careful. Can’t call you everytime there’s a storm, now can I? Gotta keep it professional.’

‘You can. You can call me in every storm. You can call me without a storm too, I left my number for a reason.’ You wince a little.

‘Yeah, sorry I haven’t called, I guess. I’ve just been so busy with school and everything.’ You couldn’t let him know that you tried. You tried so many times but chickened out at the last second every single time.

‘It’s okay. I can wait. You know where to find me.’

He starts walking towards the door and you follow him out. You fall back into silence again, listening to the rain on the roof and the remains of the wind quietly howling outside.

‘Most of the bandages will last like a week I think but you should change the one above your eyebrow and the one on your left cheek sometime tomorrow.’

‘Thanks Doc. And seriously, call me if you need anything.’

‘Okay.’ You whisper with a soft smile.

‘Good night, sweetheart. Get some sleep.’ He says as he comes close to you. He hesitates for a minute and then presses a barely there kiss to your hairline.

‘Good night’ you whisper back.

You clock the slight pause after he gets in the car and you watch as the maroon BMW leave. You wonder if this is going to be one of those moments you regret, wishing you could say what you wanted to say, wishing you could just ask him to stay or one of those moments you’ll see as dodging a bullet, wishing you could see everything in that moment.

#steve harrington fic #stranger things #steve harrington #stranger things fic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington slowburn #robin buckley #robin stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #nancy wheeler #nancy stranger things #jonathan byers #jonathan stranger things #argyle stranger things #we'll see about that #WSAT #WSAT fic

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samspenandsword · 2 years

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Kinktober 2022/23 Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Summary: Kinktober Day 5 — Breeding with Commander Thorn Pairing: Commander Thorn/Reader; fem!reader with no specifics to her appearance. Rating: Explicit, 18+ (Younglings, foundlings, and cadets BEGONE!) Warnings: Explicit sexual content, smut; Breeding kink, unprotected PIV (PRACTICE SAFE SEX), oral sex (m!receiving), armored!Thorn, naked!reader, reader is on birth control, one (1) use of the word "daddy," these two being absolute nasties, language. Word Count: 1.9k

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Thank you so much for requesting this @theroguesully 💜 This was not only incredibly fun (and hot) to write, but it really stretched my comfort zone as a writer. I've never written for Thorn before and I genuinely hope I did him and the prompt justice. So please, enjoy some absolute filth with Commander Thorn ❤️

You were frozen where you stood, shocked silent by the charged, erotic words just spoken into your ear. Heat from arousal and embarrassment flooded your body, and you were sure your eyes were wide and your mouth open with shock.

"What, you didn't think I knew?" he said, smiling darkly. You suddenly felt like a canary facing down a hungry cat. "Thought I wouldn't find out?"

"I... I —"

He shushed you gently, with some of the genuine care he usually had for you in abundance. But right now, his features were mostly clouded with lust. The kind only you could inspire in him.

"Don't know why you tried to hide it, cyar'ika," he said. He kissed the crest of your cheek. "You know that if you ever want anything, all you have to do is ask."

You were still embarrassed. It wasn't a realistic fantasy. Not with the galaxy in literal shambles. But admittedly, your fantasy was more about the act itself, not the result of such an act. You had no desire to get pregnant right now. And your implant helped you with that.

But the fantasy... the idea of being bred...

It got your blood going.

You'd never really confessed your raging breeding kink to Thorn, too caught up in your own shame that you'd managed to convince yourself that he wouldn't, in a million years, but into it. But with the way he was gripping you now, his hot breath wafting over your skin, and his deep voice in your ear...

Now you wondered why you'd waited so damn long.

Because Thorn was practically crowding you, holding you so firmly it was like he was trying to press himself into your skin.

Press a part of himself inside you and let it stay there.

Let it take root.

Let it fill you.

You were almost shaking at the mere thought.

Thorn felt the shift in you, smiling slyly. He was going to enjoy this.

When you'd met Thorn, you two had instantly clicked. You'd gravitated towards his natural cheer and warmth, always ready with stories or gossip and good humor. (Good humor was relative. His puns could be lethal.). He'd been magnetized by your presence, warm and kind. Where many civilians didn't have the opportunity to really get to know the clones well enough to tell them apart from each other, and where many of the senate and upper echelon didn't bother, you'd actively gone out of your way to recognize him and his brothers for themselves. First by memorizing their armor and paint, and putting them with a name. Then by learning their quirks and humor, their ranks, their responsibilities, even their coffee orders.

Learning who they were.

How could Thorn not have asked you out when given the opportunity?

Especially since it had led to this fantastic little moment, with you squirming in his arms from both desire and a little measure of cute embarrassment. Looking the absolute picture of temptation.

"So what do you say, cyar'ika?" he said, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear and making you shiver wonderfully. "Want me to breed you?"

And really, there was only one possible answer you could give.

Fuck yes.

Your answer found you on your back on the bed faster than you could blink.

And in what felt like another blink, you were naked and writhing as Thorn caressed you with a dark, hungry gaze.

"You are perfect," he said, voice edging into a growl. "Absolutely ripe for breeding."

Your mouth went dry and core went tight at the absolute filth coming from Thorn, usually more humorous, though still loving and absolutely amazing in bed. You definitely regretted not telling him about your breeding kink earlier.

Because he wasn't just indulging it. He shared it.

"Your breasts would swell," he went on, voice husky with lust. His gloved hands framed them, just barely skimming their shape. "They'd get sore, and sensitive, and you'd ask me to massage them for you."

He did just that, palming them in a cupping little massage, rolling them in his grip, testing their weight, imagining how big they'd get, thumbing over your nipples, pebbling them under his touch.

You arched into his hands, feeling pathetically turned on by so little stimulation.

"And your hips," he continued. Thorn brushed his hands down your sides, down the dips and curves of your waist to seize your hips in a firm grasp. You gasped. "They'd swell, too. And expand. Making room for the little one growing inside you."

Oh, god, you thought. Oh god, oh god, oh god. Oh, fuck!

"Your hormones would change," he started again. "I'd bring you everything you craved. Massage your feet when you ask. Do the chores while you nap, rub your back when you're sore. Help you feel confident in your maternity clothes, and make you cum when you're so horny you can barely stand it. Make you cum so much."

You were fully soaked now, arousal leaking out of you and smearing across your pussy and thighs. The pressure was building inside you, like water in a kettle, heating up until it just started to steam, desperately looking for a way to relieve the pressure.

"The little one would be strong," Thorn husked, eyes dark and expression growing hungrier. "Just like their mother."

Your pussy tingled at that, but you had to add, "Just like their father."

Thorn's answering smile was edged with something dark. Curls escaped his bun, framing his darkened eyes.

"Hmm, he acknowledged. "You want all that, don't you, cyar'ika?"

You burned a little, flustered, but Thorn didn't let you hide.

"It's okay," he said, soothing, "I do too. But —"

He suddenly yanked you down the bed, seating you right to his covered length.

"I have to breed you first."

And you could not fucking wait.

"Sit up, cyar'ika. Hands and knees."

You scrambled to follow his directions, leaning forward until you were facing him, on your hands and knees. You looked up at him through fluttering lashes, and he groaned a little.

"So eager," he praised. His thumb traced briefly over your cheek before falling to unclip his codpiece. His cock was unveiled next, untucking it from his compression suit. It bounced a little, looking flushed and rock hard. "Go on, get me slicked up for you. Get me nice and wet so I can breed you."

You set about your task eagerly, instantly enclosing your mouth around him. Swirling your tongue around him, you slicked his skin before beginning to bob. You took him further and further each time, your tongue and mouth making him slick and even harder. Until finally, finally, he was hitting the back of your throat.

And he still wasn't fully in your mouth. Maker, he was so big. You couldn't wait for him to be inside you.

Braced on your hands and knees, you could only use your mouth on Thorn. You alternated between taking him in your mouth and peppering him with licks and kisses. You laved your tongue all the way up his length, teasing just barely over the skin of his balls and making him groan out a praise.

You kissed his tip, then opened your mouth and swallowed him.

"Oh, good girl, cyar'ika. Could cum like this. Could shoot my load down your throat, make you swallow me."

His hand went to your cheek, and the touch made you back off a little. He fully removed his cock from your mouth, ignoring the little pout you gave.

"But that's not what we both want right now, is it?"

You trembled and tingled with anticipation.

Thorn stood from where he had been kneeling on the bed, rounding behind you. Your eyes followed him, hooded and fluttering with arousal.

Thorn grabbed a pillow and placed it under you. He then pressed his hand onto your back, and you willingly let him push you forward until you were fully lying down, your breasts squished against the mattress and hips elevated by the pillow.

Presenting you to him.

His gloved fingers swept across your core, chuckling at just how wet you were. But he didn't press inside.

You tried to arc into him.

"Oh, no, cyar'ika, gotta keep you nice and tight, gotta keep all of me inside you. Gotta breed you."

You moaned into the blankets, both embarrassed at how turned on you were and desperate for him to be inside you.

"Thorn, please," you begged.

"Shh, cyar'ika," he said, not unkindly. He smoothed his hand down your back. "I'm here." He climbed back onto the bed, still in his full kit above you. You clenched at the knowledge that he was going to fuck you like that: you naked and writhing under his red and white armor.

You really didn't need any more prep at this point you were so wet.

And Thorn knew it, smirking lightly as he briefly slapped his cock against your pussy lips. You gasped and jerked a little.

Thorn leaned over you, the hard, cool plastoid of his chest plate just barely touching to your back. He braced himself on his elbow, curling his fingers towards your outstretched hand.

He nocked himself at your entrance.

You clung to his hand.

"Ready?" he murmured, a soft kiss being placed on the back of your head.

You smiled gently and sighed, "Ready."

Thorn speared into you. And promptly began to fuck you within an inch of your life.

Positioned like this, with Thorn practically mounting you, your legs and thighs pressed tight together, your back arched under him, you unable to do anything but writhe under the press of his armored weight, your pussy tight from the position and minimal foreplay, it was hard not to feel like you were already close to falling apart. Thorn thrust into you furiously, groaning deep into your ear each time you clenched and squeezed around him. You could barely make a sound, rendered silent by the stretch of Thorn's cock inside your walls. And the way he kept brushing over that spongy patch with each pass.

"Gonna fuck you so good, cyar'ika," Thorn groaned, gutturally, into your ear. "Gonna breed you so good. Gonna be so full. We're not stopping until I say, until I'm done. Gonna have the most pretty little swollen pussy, gonna be bred full, cyar'ika, gonna look so good..."

You gasped and choked, dizzy and clamoring for something... anything. Thorn lowered himself fully on top of you, his weight making you gasp and clench around him as his other hand gripped yours and held on tight. He continued to thrust, body glued to yours, his hips moving fiercely and his cock seeming to literally drag in and out of you. It was the most luscious, slick friction you'd ever experienced.

You could feel him pulsing inside you, and you were so close.

"Go on, cyar'ika," he whispered. He pressed his face into your temple, lips pursing against your skin into a kiss with every word. "Go ahead and cum. Cum so I can fill you up. Just like you wanted. Cum so I can breed you."

It was that word — breed, breed, breed — that sent you into a tailspin. And with a silent scream, your climax slammed into you.

He pumped unsteadily with each new wave of cum spurting out of him, and each new wave of warmth against your walls prolonged your own high. Heaving and clenching in what was the longest orgasm of your life, you milked Thorn for all he was worth.

There was a moment of calm.

Still pressed tight to your back, Thorn kissed your cheek tenderly and squeezed your hands reassuringly. His voice was quiet, but still dark and promising against your skin.

"Maybe you can call me 'daddy' next time."

Oh, you were so fucked.

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